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halfway across the galaxy to push a probe up an ape s bottom, nor what it
might accomplish apart from confirming that in general apes don t like that
sort of thing.
The Bumper Book of Berkshire Records, 2004 edition
The front doorto Ashley s house opened, and two almost identical aliens stood
in the hall and blinked rapidly at Mary. To the untrained human eye, every
alien is identical to every other alien much the same way as all humans seemed
identical to aliens. Indeed, to the more unobservant alien, allmammals looked
pretty much the same. It s the backbone that s so confusing, explained an
alien spokesman when asked how a sheep might appear indistinguishable from a
human in a woolly jumper. The reason Mary could tell Ashley s parents apart at
all was that one was wearing a large and very obvious brown wig, had a folded
newspaper under its arm and was wearing slippers, and the other wore a blue
gingham dress with an Alice band perched precariously on its shiny, high
forehead.
Hello, said Mary politely to the one in the slippers, you must be Ashley s
father.
No, that would be me, said the one in the gingham. Roger s the name. This
is Abigail, my wife.
Hello, said the one wearing the slippers, proffering a three-fingered,
double-opposable-thumb hand for Mary to shake.
Mary did so with some trepidation, as Rambosians tend to transmit their
thoughts through touch. Still, she thought it would be rude not to, and her
hand was enveloped in the warm, dry stickiness of Abigail s grip. Almost
instantly the image of a wedding popped into Mary s head, complete with a
large white Rolls-Royce, church, confetti and with Mary herself dressed in a
quitestunning white wedding gown, with Ashley in morning suit.
Sorry about that, said Abigail, hurriedly letting go of Mary s hand.
It s quite all right, she replied, her close contact with Ashley having
prepared her for almost anything. But just out of interest where did you see
that dress?
At Veils R Us, replied Abigail wistfully. Wasn t it just the most
beautiful thing ever?
Why did you assume I was the mother? asked Roger, who had been thinking
about this for several moments.
It s the dress and Alice band, explained Mary. They reusually considered
female-gender apparel.
I told you the sales assistant didn t seem that bright, he said to Abigail.
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We better swap.
Mary half expected them to strip off in front of her, but they didn t. They
just placed a sticky digit on each other and trembled for a second or two.
Right, said the one who used to be Abigail. I m now Roger. Why don t you
come in?
Roger led her into the living room, which was decorated as though from the
seventies. Earth s TV signals had taken eighteen years to reach distant
Rambosia, so it was understandable that this was the era in which they felt
the most comfortable. The furniture was dark-colored, the wallpaper and carpet
patterned, the music center one of those combined radio-cassette-turntable
things, and the obligatory plaster ducks flew across the wall next to a print
ofThe Hay Wain .
How long have you had this bad knee? asked Abigail, rubbing the offending
joint of her body-swapped partner.
A few days, replied Roger.
You should look after yourself better and your arms feel a bit low. When did
you last have a pressure test?
This always happens when we swap bodies, doesn t it? replied Roger with a
baleful glare. Nag, nag, nag.
If you looked after yourself, I wouldn t have to.
Maybe Ilike having a dodgy knee ever thought of that?
Sorry about this, said Ashley.
You re a pompous old windbag sometimes, aren t you? said Abigail. Give me
back my body.
It would be evenmore confusing for our G-E-U-S-T, dear show some manners,
eh?
Manners? replied Abigail, opening her already large eyes still wider. I ll
give you 10100101 001 you, 1001 010011.
Oh, yes? Well, you can 1001001 001010010 0101001 00101010
1001011111100110100111 0000001010 010101101 011100100100 10001111110011100
010010010 01110 0100100 10010 0100100101111011, replied Roger, lapsing into
pure binary in his anger.
100101010101111110011100100101010111111! yelled back Abigail. 11 1 1001
0101001 100001010111!
Why don t you just swap your thoughts back and then yourclothes? suggested
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